"Oh, wretches!" she exclaimed, in furious disgust; "open the window again! I am suffocated! I am poisoned! They have all been eating garlic and drinking whisky!" The window was opened at her desire, but as they were then crossing the narrow isthmus of rock that connected the castle steep with the land, the wind, from that exposed position, was cutting sharp, and drove into the aperture the stinging snow, which entered the skin like needle points. "Ah, shut it! shut it! It kills me! It is infamous to treat a poor little lady so!" she cried, bursting into tears. Again the window was closed; but not for any length of time. Apparently she could neither bear it open nor shut. So, shaking, moaning, and complaining, the poor creature was taken through that long and bitter night journey which ended at last only at the station house of Banff. Half dead with cold, she was lifted out of the carriage by the two policemen who stood upon the sidewalk, where she remained, shaking, chattering, and weeping tears that froze upon her cheeks as they fell. She could see nothing in that dark street but the gloomy building before her, dimly lighted by its iron lamp above the doorway. There she remained till the viscount was handed out. "Cuthbert," said his lordship to the old man, who had exposed himself to the severe weather of this night and driven the carriage for the sake of being near his master as long as possible, "Cuthbert, take the carriage around to the 'Highlander' and put up there for the night. We shall want it to take us back to the castle to-morrow, after this ridiculous farce is over." "Verra weel, me laird," replied old Cuthbert, touching his hat with all the more deference because his master was suffering degradation. "Ah! is it so? Will we really get back to the castle to-morrow?" whimpered Faustina, shaking, chattering, and wringing her hands. "Of course we will," replied his lordship. "Ah, but how shall I get through the night? I must have a good fire and a comfortable bed, and something warm to drink. Will you see to it, Malcolm?" she whiningly inquired. "Don't be a fool!" was the gentlemanly reply; for the viscount burned with half-suppressed rage against the woman. whose fatal beauty had led him into all this disgrace. She burst into a passion of tears. "That is the reward I get for all my love!" she exclaimed. "Faustina, for your own sake, if not for any other's, exercise some discretion!" exclaimed the viscount angrily. "Villain!" she screamed, in fury, "I had no discretion when I listened to you!" "I wish to Heaven you had had then! I should not have been in this mess," he replied. "Ah!" she hissed. "If my hands were not fettered I would tear your eyes!" "Sweet angel!" sneered the viscount, in mockery and self-mockery. "Thsche!" she hissed, "let me at him!" The viscount laughed, a hard, bitter, scornful laugh.